It takes only one person to convince you to go to party but at least four strong men to get you to leave.

Your last drink of today is your first drink of tomorrow.

When you look back on the beach that is your life and see only one set of footprints, you realize that that was when Bacchus was sleeping it off.

Apologizing for last night would be like Oswald offering to pay for Jackie’s dry cleaning.

Whenever someone tells you they don’t “appreciate” your drunken behavior you become very sad because you were really banking on that asshole’s appreciation.

You didn’t leave the party. The party left you.

You shout, “Turn up the goddamn jukebox!” in a department store.

Your idea of codependency is splitting the bar tab.

You open a friend’s refrigerator and are bewildered to find food where the beer should be.

You got laid off and had to live on nothing but food and water for a whole week.

A real woman could stop you from drinking. A real big woman.

You got held up by two guys last night. All the way home.

—FKR, Troy Baxley, Dudley Moore

Winos have stopped asking you for change. They just nod and give you that weird half-smile.

Wild Turkey 101 neat tastes watered down.

The liquor store clerk looks in your cart and says, “Woo! That’s gonna be some party!” And you think, “Party?”

It doesn’t bother you when you wake up with an empty wallet because all those bartenders and waitresses probably deserve that money more than you do and HOLY SHIT HOW THE FUCK DID I SPEND SO MUCH FUCKING MONEY?

Your hangover has a hangover.

Your binge drinking gets in the way of your benders.

There’s a garbage can in your living room.

You think it’s perfectly reasonable to waive the “a gentlemen never drinks before noon” rule so long as the gentleman in question is still up from the night before.

You sometimes like to start the morning with a hearty, “Who the fuck are you?”

You have no memory of ever eating a 7-Eleven jalapeno dog and you’ve eaten about 50.

You sometimes misplace yourself.

You know that black carbon smoke from a forgotten pot of Top Ramen makes for an excellent alarm clock.

You think the world revolves around you, especially when you lie down.

—FKR, Aquarius

You got lost crossing the street.

You reckon that returning an unfinished keg is right on par with your father watching you gettting your ass kicked by a mime.

You get that weird tingling in your groin when you walk past a liquor store.

You take off your hat and strangers drop change into it. Not that you’re complaining.

You have proof the Bud Bowl is fixed.

Your blood will run a lawn mower.

Future generations will call you an urban legend.

M.A.D.D. has a budget line with your name on it.

You’re quite good looking when you’re plastered, and you have the mug shots to prove it.

You can sniff out a hidden bottle of scotch in under two minutes. One minute if it’s been cracked.

You don’t believe in conspiracy theories, but it seems a pretty big coincidence that none of the bars in town will let you stay after hours.

Your bar tabs impact the international price of wheat and barley.

Your hangovers can be seen from space.

You’ve heckled A.A. meetings.

You think you can influence the outcome of a football game two time zones away by yelling at a television.

—FKR, Richard English.

You can see your breath in July.

You can’t say the word sober without making air quotes.

You feel incredibly sexy despite the vomit stain down the front of your shirt.

Gin never gives you a hangover, but martini olives absolutely murder you.

You figure the cab companies are making a fortune off the cell phones, lighters and all that other shit that falls out of your pockets.

You know to put extra ice in your cocktail when you take a hot shower.

Contrary to popular opinion, you don’t drink all the time. You just enjoy having a few civilized night caps, day caps, afternoon caps and morning caps.

You
read this magazine until you fall asleep, then use it
as a blanket.

You
heard you get drunker at higher altitudes so you always
drink on top of the dumpster.

Your
alarm clock is a garbage truck.

You’ve
worked out a devious plot to steal Einstein’s
brain. So you can drink the alcohol it’s stored
in.

You
masturbate to the liquor ads in Playboy.

You
show up at the flu clinic to investigate rumors of
"free shots."

You have a born-on date tattooed on your beer gut.

You
hold a bottle of hair spray and say, "Man, if
you were ice cold."

You're
addressed by three separate liquor store owners as "the
guy who paid for my houseboat."

You
often confuse the word breakfast with Bloody
Marys, i.e., "What are we going to have for Bloody
Marys this morning?"

You
know that liquor is especially tasty when it comes from
the secret hiding place in your roommates's closet.

You
can, in a pinch, construct a fully-operational keg tap
from a cigarette lighter, two clothespins and lots of
love.

You
get in a heated conversation with your barstool neighbor
about the proper way to vomit from a moving vehicle.

At
2am you proclaim, "The party ain't over until
the fat lady says no!"

You need a cosigner to open a bar tab.

The
monkey on your back is in rehab.

You
know that, with a bouncer's assistance, man in
capable of short-term flight.

You
have recurring dream you're hired by the Guinness\Playboy
Research foundation to prove twenty pints a day improves
your sex life.

You often take your lover for romantic strolls among
the picturesque aisles of liquor superstores.

You will eat a bug for a shot.

You know wine is mentioned in the Bible over 250 times.
Perrier? Not once!

You have strained cigarette-butt infested beer through
your teeth.

You consider 3.2 beer on Sunday as Uncle Sam's cruel
taunt.

You can hear someone whisper "free beer" from
three blocks away.

You know the heartbreak of watching the bartender dump
the spill tray.

You call the bartending academy, inquiring as to what
they do with their mistakes.

You refer to your refrigerator as "the stand-up
beer cooler."

You give directions with liquor stores and bars the
the major landmarks, i.e., "You'll pass Argonaut's
Liquors on the left and Scooter's on the right, then
turn right on the street between the Satire Lounge
and the Lion's Lair, then continue until you see the
tree that looks like a huge martini glass."

You think vomiting is the body's way of making room
for the next round.

The first thing you look for on a wine label is the
alcohol content.

You consider Aqua Velvet a daring after-hours liqueur.

You recognize last call as a secret signal that all
unattended drinks are fair game.

When
someone says "expensive wine," you think "gallon
jug."

Four
years of research and three hours of writing went into
your masterful college thesis, "MD 20\20: Self-Esteem
Enhancer For the Leisure Classes, or Cancer Cure for
the Working Masses?"